Two Way Street
by MidnightOfTheSoul
Summary: No, the relationship didn’t need heralding trumpets announcing its existence, just steady devotion and explosive passion…their specialty. *Completed*
1. Chapter 1

Title: Two-Way Street

Rating: T

Pairing: B/B

Spoilers: The He in the She

Summary: Two could play at this game. But is it really a game?

A/N: Couldn't stay away. This could be a three shot to explore one of my issues in the B/B dynamic. It's also a slight character study. If this blows, let me know, because I won't keep it going. Thanks for reading and possibly reviewing.

.::.

It's a quiet little moment. Nothing preceded by pomp and grandeur. He's sitting next to her on a bench after a grueling day in court. As in many times past, he's grabbed her a cup of coffee while she's retreated into her mind, puzzling over things he can't begin to comprehend.

When her fingers brush his and her eyes glance at him quickly, he offers her a brief smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. Few of his smiles have done so lately. She notes this as she moves her gaze forward, thinking about the change in his demeanor as of late. He never comes to her with his problems, though he occasionally hints at them. Unfortunately, she's never adept enough to pick up on his cues, and when she realizes that she should question him the moment is gone.

The air is cold and crisp, and the winter sky has already begun to darken. Booth watches his breath as puffs of air usher forth, chasing after one another like bubbles. He makes the shape of an 'O' with his mouth and blows out a couple rings, smiling at his skill. He catches an unladylike grunt from his partner and turns to see a knowing smirk on her face.

He shrugs in defense and swivels his head forward, watching as a kid chases a throng of pigeons at the base of the granite steps. He wants to be young again, to race his younger brother to their secret hideout, to score his first basket, to listen to his grandpa's old war stories. He wants to feel alive again.

Instead, he feels heavy. He's tried over the past few days to find a few good things that happen in each one. To be fair, he took out the two suspects that brought him the most joy: Parker and Bones. All in all, his days were tedious mixtures filled with loads of paperwork, monotonous meetings with pompous bastards, and the constant knowledge of knowing he was surrounded by death. He's starting to wonder if he is getting burned out.

"Hey," his partner says softly, laying her hand on his arm for a moment.

"Yeah?" he takes a sip of his coffee. It's burnt and takes like old shoes, but it's hot.

"Where are you?"

"What do you mean? Isn't that something I'd ask you?"

"Yes, but lately you seem to be much more pensive. I'm just curious if you're ever going to tell me what's going on up there," she taps the side of his head, eliciting a grin.

"Eh. No where and every where."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's an evasive way of avoiding the topic."

"Would you prefer that I not share my thoughts or problems with you?"

"What? No, no. Whatever is going on in your life is up for you to share. I don't mind it."

"But you don't want to offer anything of yourself. I thought friendships were supposed to be two-way streets."

"That's not true. I tell you things."

"You talk to me about Parker or what Cullen has thrown at you for the week. I know very little of your family, of your past other than your sexual conquests, I don't even know if you're dating anyone right now."

"Hey, just because I'm a private guy doesn't mean I don't want to share anything with you. I'm just not very open with that stuff. It's nothing personal."

"But it is," she says this roughly and she appears to be frustrated. "I just... I thought... why aren't we past that point yet?"

His eyes move from hers to the ground and he searches his mind for a response. He knows very well why he doesn't tell her his innermost thoughts, half the time they are consumed by her. It has nothing to do with decorum or boundaries; he simply doesn't want to scare her away.

"What do you want to know then?"

She seems surprised by his response and looks irritated. She did not prepare a list of questions for him and is now thrown by his openness.

"I didn't come prepared, Booth. I just wanted to know why you don't tell me anything. To view our relationship from another perspective and observe the imbalance in knowledge strikes me as unnatural and unfair. You know almost everything about me. I only know what you let me know."

"Not so fast there. You let me know what you _want_ me to know as well."

"I disagree. I never asked you to do a background check on any of my dates, or arrest my brother or father. I never asked you show up at my apartment the night you almost got blown up. I tell you things in hopes of you reciprocating. Instead, you manage to dwell on me most of the time."

"It's the nature of how I work Bones. I was taught very young to keep private matters private and to keep a safe zone of things I should be willing to share. It's hard to overcome."

She stands and walks over to the trash and tosses her cup away, resuming her apparent state of frustration as she crosses her arms before him. He can tell that she's worked through something and is about to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"You always point out how unapologetically stubborn I am, how I need to adapt my way of thinking to more acceptable ideas. I find it unusual that you've never applied this to yourself. Possibly this is because you focus so much on others that you neglect the methodology of your own reasoning process. Maybe you should take the next few days to figure out why you're so close-minded about things."

"What?" he's standing now, completely unwilling to accept a challenge from his partner, especially when he has an empty belly and two feet of paperwork to go through. "There is nothing wrong with the way I think."

"If you see it that way, then fine. I'll see you later Booth," she gives him a once over as she walks away with the promise of trouble brewing in every step. He's slightly unsettled by the foreboding tone in her voice and can only imagine the impending issues that will ensue.

.::.

Booth didn't see her for the next two days. He spoke with her quickly on the phone once and based on the conversation, she appeared to have forgotten her subtle challenge. When he finally found enough of a reason to drop by the following day, he spent nearly five minutes searching for her, only to discover her perched atop a ladder deep in limbo.

"Whatchya doin' up there?"

"Searching for the mandible of a nineteen-year-old with Paget's disease."

"Oh. I have some documents I need you to sign so I can fax them over to the NSA."

"When do you need them by?"

"Twenty minutes from now."

"_Booth_."

"What? I want to wrap this up. I have places to go, people to see," he threw out with nonchalance, hoping she'd pick up on his offer of information.

Instead of responding, she climbed down the ladder with a box in hand, looking mildly satisfied. She had that look of being in another plane of thinking while everyone else existed elsewhere. Not the best time to interrupt her.

"So, uh, how was your date last night?" he asked her, gauging to see what was going on in her head.

"Fine," she replied without elaboration. She was still delving into the box as she moved toward the examination table.

"Nothing exciting happen?"

"No. How was your afternoon yesterday? Didn't you have that conference call with the office in L.A.?"

Though he acknowledged her change in topic, he did want to share with her what happened during the meeting. As he did so, she set the box down and signed his documents, remarking occasionally and asking questions throughout.

When they parted, he felt confident in knowing that she wasn't angry with him or holding on to any issues. That was until he got out to his SUV and realized that despite three different attempts at soliciting information from her, she'd managed to evade him and extract information that she knew he would want to share. That doctor Brennan, she was a clever one. Next time, he'll be prepared for her though. Next time, he'll have her detailing her date down to what type of wine she drank.

Two could play at this game. But is it really a game?


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Two Way Street

Rating: K+

Pairing: B/B

Spoilers: The Skull in the Sculpture

Summary: One of these days, she'd puzzle herself right into a corner and look to him for a way out. He couldn't wait.

A/N: Okie, I like this chapter a bit better. A little more my style. Thanks for the reviews everyone, they've been splendid.

.::.

"Bones, let me ask you a question," his gaze traveled from the road to his brooding partner sitting shotgun.

"Is it relevant to the case?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"I'm concentrating on the case at the moment. I'd prefer not to deviate if at all possible."

"Fine. Give me a minute of your time. Put a wrench in the cogs for a moment."

"A wrench ? Why –"

"What did my parents do for a living?"

"Your dad was a pilot in the Vietnam war and your mom used to write jingles for TV ads."

"What about my brother?"

"Jared is a Lieutenant in the Navy."

"Have I ever been in love?"

"You say you were in love with Rebecca, despite the fact that she turned you down."

"Am I dating anyone right now?"

"I am not sure."

"Do you think that if I were dating someone, I'd introduce the two of you?"

"Possibly. If I came over to your apartment and she was there, or if she meant a great deal to you."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe that hasn't happened yet?"

"What? That you've met someone whom you value and respect enough to introduce her to your friends?"

"Yes."

"Well, I don't know. You never tell me if you're dating anyone. Maybe you met someone and you don't want your two lives to intersect. It is understandable."

"Or maybe I'm at the point in my life where I don't want to date _just_ anyone. I don't want another one-night stand or a fling. Maybe I want that someone to want me back without reserve."

She didn't talk after this and he knew she was puzzling over his phrasing. One of these days, she'd puzzle herself right into a corner and look to him for a way out. He couldn't wait.

"By that statement, you are insinuating you've already met someone."

"Maybe, can't ever know for sure though, can you? Is this our exit?"

"Yes, take a left at the intersection and follow the signs for the vineyard."

"Do you think we could get a free case of wine if we solve the case?"

"Isn't it illegal to gift anyone affiliated with an open investigation?"

"It shouldn't count if the gift is better served when you're wearing a tux or an evening gown."

The conversation petered from there as they quickly approached the vineyard. It was a large estate with rows and rows of orderly looking vines and a large house set upon a hill. The wide wrap-around porch had a few guests sitting in rocking chairs, enjoying the view of the Blue Ridge Mountains as they sipped their white wine.

.::.

Booth finished interviewing the last worker on the land and thanked her kindly. Stretching wearily, he stood up from the hard wooden chair and inhaled deeply. It smelled clean and fresh in the mountains, stirring a desire in him that he'd long since forgotten. When he was younger, he used to want a place in the mountains, somewhere near a lake, one that no gas boats were permitted in. He wanted to row and fish and hunt; to live off the land so-to-speak. Scratching his head, he rolled his eyes at his wistful ways and began to seek out his partner.

"How're you doing?"

"Fine."

"You look a little tired. Want to take a break, get some water?"

"I just refilled my water bottle, and I'd actually like it if you moved two feet to the left, you're blocking my sun."

He moved out of the way and frowned. He couldn't decide what the reason was for her sour mood. It was either due to the conversation they had earlier, the state of the corpse, or she simply didn't want to be bothered. In the past however, she never got too cranky if he interrupted her. Of course, the past few days had been sort of a time warp, and she'd quickly regressed into the cold forensic anthropologist he met four years ago. He was finally starting to understand how much she'd grown in the time he'd known her. Maybe this was the real her, and she made an active attempt everyday to be open with him. He frowned at the prospect. Who _was_ this woman before him?

"Did you hear me?" she asked as she stood beside him, dusting off her pants.

"What? Sorry, zoned out."

"I said I've got everything I need. We just need your agents to extract the rest of this plot. I'm still missing a distal phalanx, but it doesn't appear to have been damaged around the time of death."

"What, you think he was missing a _phalanx_ before he died?"

"Yes. It may help with identification."

"Great. Now all we need is to get Gomer Pyle over there to spill the goods," he said casually as he jotted notes down in flip-pad. He felt Brennan's eyes on him and couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"Just waiting on that guy to talk to us."

"I don't think he's going to say anything at all, Booth."

"Why's that?"

"It appears that his jaw has been wired shut from the way his mandible is set."

"Ah… Great. Maybe we can play a game of charades later over a nice bottle of red."

She didn't even bother to respond. The forensic team loaded up the gear and the corpse while the two partners held their final interview, which proved to be useless. The hour and a half long ride back to D.C. was quiet but not uncomfortable. The myriad of thoughts swirling about in their minds was enough to concoct a formidable explosion of possibility.

While Brennan was climbing out of the SUV, she glanced at her partner carefully and frowned. She didn't like it when he was this quiet. It normally meant she'd done something wrong or something else was wrong that he wouldn't tell her about.

"Want to get coffee later? I'm staying late tonight."

He looked up at her and shrugged. Non-committal seemed to be the theme for the day. She didn't handle non-committal well.

"Actually, don't bother. I know where the coffee pot is in the lounge. Continue on your way."

"Sorry, Bones," he replied, realizing that his attempt at being suave was being misinterpreted by his partner. It worked so well in college. "Want me to swing by around seven to pick you up? Its rhubarb pie tonight, crumb topping."

The smile he got in return put all his worries at bay. She agreed and he drove off, mentally compiling his notes to ease the pain of writing his preliminary report.

A few hours later, he met Angela on her way out, offering a weak smile as she walked by. She seemed in a hurry, but always her inquisitive self, she stopped the agent with a hand on his arm.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You've got a thunder cloud of gloom hanging over your head. Did Brennan do something?"

"Not that I know of. Is there something you know that I don't know?"

"Always," she gave him a smile and a pat on the arm. "Chin up Booth. You're in the company of friends here."

He shook his head at her as he watched her walk away, wondering what went on in that crazy head of hers. Turning around, he spotted Bones on the platform, working quietly as she assembled the remains of the skeleton that her Grad Student of the Week did not finish. Instead of going over to her, he climbed the stairs that took him to the balcony and watched her work, waiting for her to feel his presence.

Slowly but surely, she turned her head up to him a few minutes later, giving him a smile and holding up four fingers, indicating how much time she required before completing her task. He nodded at her and shoved his hands in his pockets, shuffling back and forth on the narrow walkway. Occasionally he would let his eyes fall back on her, mentally cursing himself for being so drawn to her graceful form.

Sometimes, he had dreams about her. Not fantasies, nothing with her parading about in lace or whip cream, but honest to goodness dreams. He once awoke feeling like he was wrapped in her arms, the warmth of her skin seeping through his worn t-shirt. He liked waking up this way, even if he felt disoriented and lonely once he realized the loss. As much as he longed to crawl inside her head and make sense of her intellectual jargon and thoughts, he had an equal longing to feel her skin against his. He often wondered what it would be like, to inch his fingers from her ankle to her thigh, to skid along her hip and linger in the valley between her breasts, to patter along her clavicle and dwell in the notch at their joining.

Occasionally, when they were together late, working in companionable silence, he'd catch his mind wandering. More often than not, he'd silence the thoughts, but once in a while, he'd let them go. He'd imagine various scenarios that whispered to him from the past and called to him, telling him of the way things could be.

As his mind wandered, he imagined that they would be sitting on the couch nursing their drinks with their feet propped on her coffee table. She would nudge his colorful feet with her cute little toes and he'd waggle his toes in reply. Then he would say something that brought them to the cusp of something more and she'd always have the chance to take it further or rein them in. That was if he didn't beat her to it. But this time, she'd look him in the eyes and she'd acknowledge what he was trying to say, and she wouldn't shy away, wouldn't back down. She would turn into him and he'd find his hand wrapping around her thigh, his fingers curled behind her knee. Curling into him, her fingers would crawl in a contemplative manner up his shirt, playing with his buttons as she slowly prepared her mind and body for what was about to happen.

Then she would reach his lips and her fingers would ghost over them, sliding back into his hair. He'd lean forward and kiss the skin along her neck, breathing her in as though she were fire, igniting the life in his very soul. His hand would creep beneath her shirt and his palm would flatten against the soft smoothness of her stomach, drumming a nervous tune across the taut muscles. His hand would slide around to her back, and he'd feel her gasp against his ear. When their lips would meet he wouldn't know where he ended and she began, for they were seamless, each becoming a part of the other and to separate was like severing an artery,

His mind was foggy as he was slowly drawn to the present. He'd last seen her meticulously placing the shattered remains of a pelvis back together. He distinctly noted that she was nowhere in sight, but very near. It was then that he felt her presence behind him, warm and cautious as she whispered into his ear.

"Coffee won't wait forever," her words climbed into his ear with a hammer, breaking up the dream he craved. Instead of turning, he remained in his position, wondering if she'd keep hers.

"Maybe it's just waiting for someone to come along and drink it."

"There is the possibility that someone else already came along and drank it."

"If that's the case, then why is it waiting for us?"

Turning suddenly, he found himself mere centimeters from her face and she didn't back away. She cocked her head a little, as though she were preparing for a challenge.

"Because there is the chance that it is still there," she replied, not sure where they were going but forging ahead regardless. "We still need to find out with all certainty that we can still have it."

"What if I don't want coffee anymore? What if I want more than just coffee?"

She shifted slightly and thought for a moment. There were too many hypothetical statements running around. Before she proceeded, she needed to make sure she knew what they were talking about. He did that sometimes, turned the tables on her, catching her unawares. It was unsettling at times.

"We aren't talking about coffee anymore, are we Booth?" her voice was soft, just above a whisper. He could sense a little bit of vulnerability in her words. He'd wait. She wasn't ready yet.

"No, no we aren't." He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a rugged sigh. Instead of giving her the explanation he knew she was seeking, he reached up slowly and tugged at the end of her hair a little, touching, but not quite. He flicked it in her face and gave her the best smile he could muster.

"Come on, Bones. My pie better not be eaten by the time we get there."

She stood for a moment, watching his slightly stiff gait, the set of his shoulders, the purposeful way he carried himself. Concern for her friend trumped all other matters at the moment. She might not be able to give him what he wanted, but she would certainly do her best to provide what she was capable of. She just hoped it would be enough.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Two-Way Street 3/3

Pair: B/B

Rating: T

Spoilers: Up to The Beaver in the Otter

Disclaimer: HH owns my OTP. FBI owns Hoover. Thomas Harris owns Hannibal Lecter. I own a pile of debt. Thank you school loans.

A/N: Say what? this isn't dead? Apologies. I thought I was done with this. My muse ran away with my money and left me for dead. I jumped on another ship. But lo and behold! My muse has returned and was angry about the character assassination that occurred in the last two episodes, demanding that I ratify it immediately. Be advised, there is no sexin', nor is there any baby insinuations. I can't write sex and I after studying all the havoc that pregnancy reeks on the body, I do not believe in these cuddly parasites and neither will Brennan.

This is unbeta'd, and written frantically while I studied for my Pharmacology final… because pharm is my muse's agonist. If you get that, you get to prompt me for a ficlet.

.::.::.::.::.

Booth clutched the steering wheel tightly as he turned into the garage below the Hoover building. He'd just endured an agonizingly long trip in the car with Bones and Sweets, bickering about God knows what. He'd tuned them out nearly thirty minutes ago, focusing instead on the Current State of Affairs.

As it were, his dearly beloved co-pilot over there, genius that she was, still had not puzzled herself out of any corners. In fact, he was pretty sure she'd just made it more complex. Which was fantastic. Booth glanced over at Brennan as she tucked her hair behind her ear and huffed.

He grinned at her irritation, but it quickly reminded him of his own ire. How much longer would he have to wait? How much longer was he going to have to drop subtle hints or prod her along, only to have to retract at the last second? Booth was all for being patient and just rewards, but this was pushing it.

Booth parked the SUV and climbed out, purposefully striding ahead of his wildly gesticulating partner and Sweets, who looked like he was about to have a conniption. Walking towards the elevator, he received doleful looks from passing agents, even a chuckle or two. Rolling his eyes he continued on toward the elevators, he choose to hop in one that was nearly full right before it closed. He shook his head at their obliviousness as he pressed the button to his floor, exhaling deeply as he moved out of the way for others to get off and on.

When he finally exited the elevator, the one across the way pinged and let out Brennan and Sweets, still at it, still unaware of the raucous they were making. He deserved a medal, or a plaque, no wait… a statue. That's right, he deserved a statue for having to endure this kind of torture for hours on end.

"Yes, well. I find your science distinctly lacking," argued Brennan as she walked next to Sweets.

"Guys, knock it off," said Booth as he turned the corner, stopping to face them. "Congratulations for perpetuating the longest-running debate in history. Personally, I don't care if Sweets' job entails that he pick pansies and eat kittens for a living. As long as we catch the bad guy, that's all that matters. So please, just… give it a rest."

Appropriately chastened, Sweets glanced at Brennan whose look was similar to his own. Except hers bordered on mild indignation.

"Booth, maybe I should talk to the suspect. I don't think you're in the proper mindset for an interrogation."

"Mindset? You want to talk to me about mindset? I just had to sit in a car for two hours listening to you two," he waffled his fingers between them in exasperation, "argue over hard and soft science. You're lucky I didn't try to climb out with the car still moving."

He turned quickly and walked into the viewing room outside interrogation, leaving Brennan and Sweets in the hallway.

"Eat kittens? How long has he been like this?" asked Sweets, fist at his waist and his other scratching his forehead.

"Irritable or insufferable?"

"Both."

"He's always been a little of both, but it's gotten much worse lately. Much worse. Probably since we had that cannibal with the wired jaw — the one everyone kept calling Hannibal Lecter."

"That was over two months ago," said Sweets as he started pacing. "Although, a lot of stuff has happened since then. I mean, he had that concussion, he got kidnapped, Jared left for India… the list goes on."

"Yes but —"

"I'm fine doing the interrogation solo, but I will not repeat what happened. So you might want to get in there," Booth interrupted as he waved his arms towards the viewing room. He gave them a disapproving look while he walked into the interrogation room.

"Something's up. Maybe you should take him out, get him to wind down."

"He can do that just fine on his own."

"I just think he seems like he's stressed out."

Though Brennan seemed to get a look of understanding on her face, she didn't betray her thoughts. Just pinned Sweets with a mildly withering look.

"Is that your clinical diagnosis or is that just an observation?" snipped Brennan as walked into the viewing room, waiting for Booth to begin.

Sweets wisely kept his mouth shut.

.::.::.::.

"Bones. Got the judge to sign the warrant. Not going to tell you how many favors I called in but —" Booth stopped as he entered her office, caught short by the sight of his partner in very non-business like attire. "Woah there hot stuff. Where you goin'?"

Brennan looked up at him from where she stood behind her desk, leaning over her keyboard as she typed. Silky looking black dress, V-neck, to the knees. He was trying not to gawk openly as she continued on in ignorance of her effect on him.

"Why, what time is it?"

"Nearly eight o'clock. So… where are you off to?" Booth was trying hard to not let his eyes drift downwards, but she was leaning over and the cut of her dress definitely enhanced the view.

"A date," Brennan replied as she stood finally, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Oh." Booth cast around for something, anything to say, but all that he had was either a curse word or a monosyllable. Looking down at the warrant, he remembered his sole excuse for dropping by. He pocketed the paper as he tried to hide his frown.

"I uh, I guess I'll head off then, see if I can get a peak around Mr. Mullet's house."

Brennan fixed him with a stern look. "It's pronounced Moo-lay, Booth. And no you aren't."

"Why not?" he watched as she grabbed her purse and walked up to him, her heals clicking softly.

"You're coming with me."

"Ha! Ha, no. As fun as it would be to see you bond with some… muscle-bound paleontologist or something like that, I think I'll pass."

Booth stood and walked around her, fiddling with his tie.

"Booth," she said in a tone that made him stop and swallow hard. He'd been waiting months for her to say his name just like that, and now that she did it, he wasn't sure what to do. When he heard her footsteps approach him again, he turned slowly to face her.

"I've got a table reserved for two, you're hungry, I'm hungry. Let's go."

He wasn't sure how to interpret that.

"Did you get stood up?"

The sad grin that crossed her face made him regret the question, but he needed to make sure she knew what she was doing.

"No."

"And you… you're asking me… on a date?" he said it hesitantly; confused to her intentions since her approach was so blasé.

"If, by date, you mean a meal shared between to people who have a mutual interest in one another and wish to expand upon their relationship, then yes. A date."

His quirked his head to the side, looking Brennan directly in the eye trying to figure out if she full understood the gravity of the situation. Either she had no idea, or her bluffing skills had improved exponentially.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said finally, choosing the former. A frown crossed her features and he caught the genuine hurt in her eyes. She'd been bluffing. She was trying to be smooth like him and he totally missed it. Completely.

"But… Sweets said that—"

Wait. Wrong again. No bluffing at all. She didn't have a clue. If they were going on a date, it would be with the full knowledge that he didn't just want a date. He wanted a _date_. He wanted romance and soft whispers and bedroom eyes, not a pity meal _because Sweets suggested it._ If he got a hold of that meddling shrink within the next twenty-four hours, he'd instruct him on how best to stay out of other people's business.

"Ah! I knew it. I knew there was no way you had any idea what was going on. So what happened? Sweets put you up to this? Or was it Angela. I know she's been laying it on heavy the past few weeks."

"Booth I don't—" Brennan's brow was furrowed, she clearly had no idea what he was talking about. But it didn't matter. Nope. He wasn't going to take a pity date just because she was following doctor's orders. No sir.

"Look, it's nice that you think I need food and all, but no thanks. If you want to grab some dinner with me sometime, that'd be swell. But do it on your own terms, Bones. Do it when you fully understand what you're asking."

He turned around and headed towards the exit. He actually believed for a good ten seconds that all his waiting and encouraging had finally paid off. Of course it was too good to be true.

"Booth!" Brennan said his name like he was a disobedient dog that just ate her Manolo Blahniks. He stopped and tilted his head up to the ceiling, but refused to turn around. He was a little too angry for that.

"I don't know what you're talking about. All I was saying was that Sweets said you seemed stressed out lately. Not like I would listen, but he didn't _tell_ me to do anything. Neither did Angela," she huffed out as she tossed her purse on the nearest chair, arms akimbo.

Booth slowly turned around, slightly mortified at his over-reaction. Way to go. When he saw that fiercely oppositional look in her face, he knew he'd done one better than shut her down, he'd gone and made her angry and defiant. He needed to back-peddle quickly and carefully.

"All I wanted to do was have a nice meal with you away from the diner that didn't involve work. Something that… explored possibilities beyond the realm of cases and co-workers."

Booth's ears were ringing. Did he hear that correctly?

"Possibilities?"

Brennan seemed to cool a bit with his quick switch and light tone, but she also seemed to grow a little uncertain.

"Yes. You know… potential," she paused a second as Booth started walking slowly to her.

"Potential?"

He took another step, and her arms fell to her side, making her look a bit flustered.

"Yes. Potential. For… more."

Booth couldn't hide the slow grin that was coming. Nor could he calm his increasing heart rate.

"More? As in… more dates?"

"That is the way it tends to work, yes," she replied, seeming to calm slightly… at least until he started approaching again.

"And you want those… dates to happen between you and me?"

He was about a step from her now and he could see the fear and doubt in her eyes — the sheer vulnerability. Being blasé was all smoke and mirrors, this is what was hiding underneath and he'd been too absorbed in her words to miss it.

"Well, unless you see any paleontologists around," she said with a small smile, finally catching on to his approach.

"Sorry, they're all gone," he said as he inched forward a little more. "And what if the date is awful? What if I spill my wine and you hog the conversation?"

"Then it wasn't meant to be and we go back to the diner and drink coffee and talk about work," she shrugged uncertainly, but that was clearly how she planned to handle the situation. "It doesn't have to be earth-shattering, Booth. Just a date. See if there's potential."

"For more?" He smirked as he echoed her words.

She rolled her eyes as she took a step back and grabbed her purse.

"Yes, Booth. I think you have a general understanding of how this works."

Booth finally gave in and nodded as they turned and left her office. "Yes, I'm pretty sure I know the logistics. But I just need to be sure of one thing," he stopped abruptly, causing her to pause as well.

"What?" she looked back at him then fully turned around, her wariness returning.

"Promise me that you aren't going to run away if this gets to be too much for you. Just be honest with me, that's all I ask. I can always take a step back, but I can't chase you forever."

She took a beat to contemplate, but she apparently weighed the odds in his favor.

"Okay. I'll do my best."

"You do realize that this could change _everything_, right?"

He wanted so badly for her to understand the consequences of this evening. That this would alter their lives for years to come. There was no way they'd be able to go back to the way things were before. It wouldn't be enough for him and sooner or later she would have to understand that. He watched her eyes as she started to smile slowly, causing his breath to catch in his throat slightly.

"Yes, Booth," she said his name quietly, intimately, and his heart stuttered a bit. She took a step closer to him, leaving only a few inches to spare. He could feel her breath on his lips and the heady scent of her hair and perfume. It was all a lethal combination and he couldn't help but feel a little dizzy.

She cocked her head to the side as her smile broke, "I understand that this could change everything."

He wasn't quite sure when it happened, but somehow, his hands had climbed up to her hips, thumbs rubbing along the sides of the smooth fabric sheathing her warm skin. Then again, her hands were slowly working their way up his arms, so he wasn't quite sure who the guilty party was. No matter.

"You're okay with that?" he wasn't smiling now. He was dead serious. He watched as she took in a breath, sucking in her bottom lip and biting it nervously. That act alone nearly did him in. But the slow, confident nod that followed completely pushed him over the edge.

"Yeah," she said as she leaned forward, smiling against his lips. His fingers traced her jaw, sliding back into her hair as he opened his mouth to hers, flicking his tongue out lightly against her lips. Welcoming him completely, she raked her own tongue against his, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. Someone, or possibly both, emitted a soft moan and he felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck as she drug her fingers lightly against his skin.

When they parted seconds or minutes later, neither was counting, he was greeted by a dazed look in her eyes and delectably swollen lips. He leaned in and stole another kiss, but felt her pushing him slightly and he pulled apart.

"Dinner, Booth. First dinner. We have to do this right," she said seriously as she took a step back and inhaled deeply. He was glad. Serious was the approach he wanted her to take. He smiled and nodded, holding out his hand for her to take. No, he didn't need to admit his undying love for her, but he wouldn't sit idle and let her wonder about his intentions either.

"Right. No pressure. Doesn't have to be _earth-shattering_," he smiled at her as they walked down the corridor towards the exit.

"Just a date," she said primly.

"That may or may not change everything."

"Not everything, Booth. It's not like I'm asking you to father my children or anything."

"Ha. That'll be the day."

Together, they walked out into the night, hand-in-hand with the soft breeze whispering of promise and futures. Perhaps Booth was absolutely certain of his convictions, but Brennan was slowly coming around, approaching this bond with the care and courtesy it deserved.

No puzzles, no coffee, no corners. Just the two of them, learning to open themselves up to each other in a way that neither had ever experienced. No, the relationship didn't need heralding trumpets announcing its existence, just steady devotion and explosive passion…their specialty.

.::.::.::.

A/N: Sorry if this was dreadful. I just needed to express my irritation over the unlikelihood and cop-out of the last two eps. Thanks for reading!


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